


Anything for You

by riventhorn



Series: Arthur/Leon [1]
Category: Merlin BBC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-27
Updated: 2010-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during episode 2.06. Leon comforts Arthur after Uther disinherits him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything for You

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended, no profit is being made from this

“You are to be disinherited with immediate effect,” Uther said. “You are no longer crown prince of Camelot.”

The words cut through the confused murmurings of the court, and a stunned, disbelieving silence fell. Everyone, including Leon, looked at Arthur. He couldn’t see the prince’s face but the tight, stiff way he held himself was enough.

 _This can’t be happening_ , Leon told himself. _I must have misheard_. But he hadn’t. Arthur was speaking to his father now in a low voice, but the king’s face was implacable.

People were talking again in soft, shocked voices. Leon couldn’t tear his eyes from the prince. For Uther to do this was…unthinkable. But to do it in front of the entire court… Leon knew how proud Arthur was—this would be humiliating for him. Indeed, as Arthur turned away from his father and strode from the room, he kept his head down, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Queen Katrina will be named as rightful heir to the throne,” Uther went on, and another shocked rippled passed through the crowd.

Silence followed Uther’s announcement, and Leon could see the king’s face beginning to darken with anger. A furious Uther would be even more unlikely to listen to reason than usual, so Leon did the only thing he could and began clapping. Each slap of palm against palm felt like a betrayal. A betrayal of Arthur. What he really wanted to do was scream at the king, ask him if he was out of his mind, how he could do this to his son.

Leon couldn’t do any of those things of course, but as soon as Uther dismissed the court, he hurried to Arthur’s chambers. He stopped in front of Arthur’s door, and then had to spend several minutes gathering his courage.

At last, Leon knocked softly. A few long moments passed, and then Arthur said, “Enter.”

Leon went in, shutting the door behind him. Arthur stood next to the table, facing away from Leon, one hand gripping the back of a chair.

“What is it?” Arthur demanded.

Leon cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Are you all right, sire?” he asked.

Another pause, and then Arthur turned around. He still looked shocked. And hurt. But his voice was stiff with control as he answered, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” Leon persisted.

Arthur’s mouth tightened. “Yes. Would you find Mer—” He stopped, remembering that Merlin had fled the city. Leon, who was becoming increasingly suspicious of the Lady Katrina’s role in all of this, wondered if Merlin might have had suspicions of his own and been conveniently gotten rid of.

Arthur turned away again, and Leon saw his shoulders slump. “Never mind,” Arthur said quietly. “You may go.”

Leon hesitated. Arthur looked so uncertain—so different from his usual, slightly arrogant demeanor. Arthur was shorter and slighter in comparison to many of the knights—including Leon—but Leon hardly ever noticed it because Arthur always commanded such respect. But now—

Three steps took him within touching distance of Arthur. Taking a deep breath, Leon laid his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. He felt Arthur tense underneath him, but Arthur didn’t speak.

“Can I get you anything, sire?” Leon enquired softly. “Since Merlin isn’t here.”

Arthur’s fingers twisted in the hem of his tunic. “No,” he said. “No. That won’t be necessary.”

Leon sighed and started to remove his hand. Before he could withdraw it completely, however, Arthur’s hand darted forward and caught Leon’s wrist in a tight grip. Leon drew a sharp breath—he always forgot how fast Arthur could move.

They stayed like that for a frozen second, and then Arthur let go and twisted around so they were facing each other. His hand reached towards Leon’s tunic, but paused in mid-air, hesitating. Taking another deep breath, Leon caught Arthur’s fingers in his own and gave Arthur’s arm a slight tug. Arthur stumbled forward, coming up against Leon’s chest. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but faltered and cast his eyes towards the floor.

Leon’s heart was pounding, and for a second, panic overwhelmed him. _This was his prince, his commander. He_ couldn’t _do this_. But no—Arthur was lonely, upset. He needed this. But he couldn’t ask for it. He needed someone else to take charge for once, needed someone else to give the orders, accept the responsibility. And Leon could do that for him. God, he wanted to do it for him. Tilting his head, Leon pressed his mouth to Arthur’s in a rough kiss.

Arthur gave a barely audible groan and pushed at Leon, sending him stumbling backwards. Leon’s back slammed into the wall, bringing them to an abrupt halt. His arms were sliding up Arthur’s back, pulling up his tunic, exposing warm skin to his searching fingers. Arthur panted against his mouth, and Leon felt Arthur’s cock pressing into his thigh. He rubbed his own thigh in between Arthur’s legs, and Arthur groaned again, his hips thrusting forward.

Leon finally broke away from the wet, needy kisses. “Off,” he whispered hoarsely, tugging at Arthur’s tunic. “Take it off.”

Arthur did as he was told, stripping off the tunic. Leon pulled it from him, tossing it to the floor. He wanted to touch Arthur’s bare skin—trace the scars with his fingers, his mouth—too many scars. With a pang, Leon thought of Arthur demanding to know if Leon had let him win the jousting tournament, wanting so badly to be respected and liked. If only he realized how much Leon—how much all the knights—loved him—how they would do anything for their prince. While his eyes wandered over Arthur, who looked unsure again under the scrutiny, Leon fumbled off his own tunic and chainmail. Arthur’s hungry, wanting gaze burned against Leon’s bare skin. But Arthur remained where he was, fingers clenching his arms to keep from trembling.

Tenderly, Leon gathered Arthur into his arms. His fingers wandered down Arthur’s chest and stomach, lingering over the scars and bruises. Then he pushed lower and began unlacing Arthur’s breeches. Arthur’s breath puffed against his shoulder, hot and ragged. Leon tugged the breeches down and wrapped his hand around Arthur’s cock. Arthur jerked and moaned, fingers digging into Leon’s back.

Now that it was happening, that he was actually _doing_ this, any remaining hesitation was rapidly falling away. A rush of words were building up in his throat— _my lord, yes, I would do anything for you—anything. I’m yours—yours to command_. He pressed his lips tightly together to keep them from spilling out because the last thing Arthur needed right now was to be reminded of his station, his—former—title of crown prince.

So he kept silent and stroked Arthur’s cock slowly, rubbed his thumb across the head. Arthur rolled his hips forward, trying to get more friction. Leon obliged, increasing the pressure and stroking faster. He sought out Arthur’s mouth again, and then pressed hot kisses along Arthur’s jaw and down his neck. Arthur made a sound between a moan and a sob and came, seed spilling across Leon’s fingers. Leon rubbed Arthur’s back, kissed his soft, tousled hair.

Arthur’s arms were clinging to him. “Please,” Arthur whispered. “I want—” He drew in a shuddering breath. “You—I want you to—” He started pulling Leon backwards, towards the bed.

A rush of arousal stabbed through Leon at Arthur’s fumbling words. His mouth was dry, cock throbbing. Arthur’s knees hit the edge of his bed, and he fell down on the blankets, crawled up into a sitting position. He didn’t look at Leon, but kept his head down, cheeks flushed.

Leon didn’t let himself think, just struggled out of his breeches, kicked them off, and slowly lowered himself down next to Arthur. He ran his thumb along Arthur’s arm. “Have you ever…?” he managed to ask in an unsteady voice.

Arthur shook his head.

“All right,” Leon murmured. “Just relax. Lay back and relax, Arthur.” It was the first time he had ever spoken the prince’s name without an accompanying honorific, and he had to say it once more, softly, “Arthur.” Arthur shivered and lay down among the pillows, staring up at the canopy.

Leon stared himself for a long moment, stared at his prince, stretched out in front of him, _waiting_ for him. Arthur shifted, uneasy, and Leon jolted into movement again, started kissing and licking Arthur’s chest. He rubbed his cock along Arthur’s thigh, at last letting his own moans and gasps escape, trusting that he could keep back other words— _my prince, always, always yours_. One hand slipped down to fondle Arthur’s cock, now half hard again. Then he slid a finger between the cleft of the prince’s arse, lightly rubbing against his hole. Arthur gasped, jerked, and spread his thighs wider.

Fighting down the impulse to just thrust in and take what Arthur was offering, Leon nuzzled against Arthur’s neck. “Do you have any oil or salve?” he asked, voice a bit higher and more breathless than he would have liked.

“In the—in the cabinet next to the bed. Second drawer.” Arthur’s voice was rough, and Leon had to squeeze his eyes shut and concentrate on not coming at the sound of it.

He rolled over and stretched his arm out, rummaging in the drawer, coming up with a jar of salve. When he turned back, Arthur was watching him. He looked so achingly vulnerable, and Leon resisted the urge to pull him close, tell him that he was Arthur’s man. In that moment, he realized that if Arthur decided to take the throne from Uther, he would be at Arthur’s side without a second’s hesitation. He wanted to get to his knees, bow his head, and swear his allegiance right then.

Instead, he gently cupped Arthur’s face in his hand for a moment and whispered, “Now, lie on your stomach and spread your legs.”

Arthur obeyed, and Leon pulled his hips up a bit, spread his legs wider. He dipped his fingers into the salve, and then eased one of them into Arthur. Arthur made a choked noise and buried his face in a pillow, his hands gripping the blankets. Leon pushed his finger in deeper and eased it in and out. “We’ll take it slow,” he told Arthur.

Arthur managed a nod. Leon rubbed his hand in soothing circles on Arthur’s back, encouraging him to relax as he worked another finger in beside the first one. He pushed his fingers up and down faster now, and Arthur jerked again, his hips snapping forward.

Keeping his fingers inside Arthur, Leon used his other hand to spread salve on his cock, rubbing, burning flashes of anticipation coursing through him. He moved a little closer and adjusted Arthur’s hips, getting the right angle. He drew out his fingers, which pulled a whimper from Arthur.

“Easy, now,” Leon murmured, and rubbed the head of his cock against Arthur’s hole, teasing, which drew out more whimpers. Then Leon gripped Arthur’s hips and started to push inside.

Arthur moaned and scrabbled at the blankets. He had turned his face sideways, and his sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. His eyes were squeezed shut.

Leon thrust a little deeper, groaning at the feeling of Arthur, clenched tight around him. He pulled out slightly, and then thrust in again. Pausing, buried deep in Arthur, he reached down to find the prince’s cock. Arthur’s erection had flagged a little, and Leon stroked his cock again, rocking his hips in a rolling motion as he did so. Arthur suddenly cried out loudly, and one of his hands groped blindly, clutching at Leon’s hip. “Yes,” he gasped. “More. Please. I want—more.”

 _Yes, sire. Yes, my prince_. Leon pulled out and thrust in again. He lifted Arthur’s hips even higher, and Arthur rested his forehead on his arms, hands clenched into fists. Arthur’s muscles flexed, hard and firm beneath his skin. Dear God, he would never be able to watch Arthur fighting again without seeing this moment. Soon they had built a rhythm, and Leon let his head fall back, closing his eyes and letting the sensations overwhelm him.

“Oh—yes. Fuck, that feels so—so—” Arthur gave up on words and settled for groaning.

Leon found Arthur’s cock again. His fingers had barely closed around it before Arthur was coming. Leon gasped and held still as Arthur’s orgasm tightened his body. Then Arthur relaxed again, and Leon thrust forward sharply and came, losing himself in the wash of pleasure.

When he came back to himself, Arthur was trembling under him, breath coming in sobbing gasps. Leon forced his fingers to unclench from their grip on Arthur’s hips and lowered himself and Arthur gently to the bed, his softening cock still buried in Arthur. “Shh,” he murmured, kissing Arthur’s shoulder. “Shh. My sweet Arthur.” He ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair, which stood up in sweaty tufts.

He drew out slowly, and Arthur moaned a little. Leon petted Arthur’s flank. Arthur pressed back against him, and Leon slid his arms around Arthur’s chest. They lay there quietly, and Leon felt his eyes closing, a pleasant, after-sex drowsiness taking hold.

At last, though, Arthur stirred and pulled away. “You may go,” Arthur said, and he sounded like the prince again, although he didn’t look at Leon. Then his voice softened, shaking slightly. “Please, leave.”

“Yes, sire,” Leon sighed. He sat up and began fishing around on the floor for his clothes.

When he was dressed, he went around to Arthur’s side of the bed and knelt down. Arthur had crawled under the blankets and was staring at the wall. He glanced at Leon, and then looked away again.

“Sire,” Leon began, “I want you to know that whatever you may choose to do about this…situation with the Lady Katrina, you can count on me to be at your side.”

It took a moment before realization sank in. Arthur shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. “I—no. No. This was my—the king’s decision. I will abide by it.”

“Yes, my lord. Just—know that you have my loyalty.”

Arthur’s eyes met Leon’s. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Leon couldn’t help reaching out for one more brush of his fingers across Arthur’s stubble-rough cheek before standing up. “Good night, Arthur,” he said from the door, but Arthur remained still and did not reply.


End file.
